


Apply Ice

by intrikeyt



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Family, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrikeyt/pseuds/intrikeyt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna's son is teething. Elsa is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apply Ice

**Author's Note:**

> A short, sweet little one-shot giving us a little peek into Elsa's role as an aunt to Kristoff and Anna's baby. Written after I spent four and a half hours soothing my niece's gums with ice wrapped in a washcloth because she was teething and both her parents had classes. *sigh*
> 
> As far as I've been able to tell, there's no official surname for Anna and Elsa, so I made one up. Also, I don't exactly know the royal protocol for naming conventions, so Anna's son's full title still includes his mother's surname (aside from Kristoff's, which I'm assuming is Bjorgman--don't really know if this is canon or fanon) since they're the royal family and all.
> 
> Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine!

At his christening, the baby is proclaimed to be Nicolaas Bjorgman of House Oddershede, Prince of Arendelle, Third in the Line. But his family simply calls him Kai.

This is a child most assuredly blessed, the townspeople say. His father the Prince Consort Kristoff is a kind, strong, and hardworking man, and although the gossips are fond of pointing out his rather ignoble origins, no one does so _too_ loudly. His mother is the lovely Princess Anna, sweetness and light and warmth itself personified. They are attentive parents, the Prince Consort and the Princess, making sure that their little bundle of joy never wants for anything.

And his aunt--ah, his aunt! His aunt is none other than the powerful sorceress Elsa, Queen of Arendelle, a fair and just ruler to her people and a force to be reckoned with. She fairly dotes on the baby, lavishing him with all the love and affection she denied her younger sister while they were growing up, hoping, in some way, to right the wrongs of those cold and lonely years.

To say that Prince Kai is a spoiled baby would be an understatement.

Which is why, exactly six months and seventeen days after he is born (Anna has kept careful count), when he throws a rather alarming tantrum, neither Anna nor Kristoff know what to do.

\--

Elsa has not visited the baby in days. The winter is almost over, and trading season will soon begin, and she has been locked away in her office with her advisors, the whole lot of them arguing back and forth whether to accept the Southern Isles’ proposal to be their foremost trading partner (with favorable terms for Arendelle, of course, in recompense for Prince Hans’s treachery), or to search for safer options. Elsa has suggested her cousin’s kingdom in the east (interestingly enough, Rapunzel has _also_ married a commoner--perhaps it is a family predilection?), which threw the advisors into yet another tizzy of a debate. It’s enough to drive anyone mad.

She calls for a recess and escapes the council chambers with not a small amount of relief. There is a thin sheen of frost on her palms, she notices. She has learned--and is still learning--to control her powers, but when she is annoyed or stressed or angry, this happens. Ice on her palms, or on the balls of her feet. She sighs and wipes away the frost on her hands.

Complete control will come, with time. For now, she’s just glad she’s not turning everything she touches into ice.

She heads for the royal family’s private apartments, intending to lie down and maybe read a book--anything to get her mind off the council’s bickering. However, a wail coming from the royal nursery changes her plans.

The royal nursery is, perhaps, Elsa’s favorite room in the palace. She and Anna decorated it themselves. It is quiet, away from the daily hustle and bustle of the palace, and overlooks a private garden which blooms with the most spectacular blossoms in the summer, and a breathtaking landscape of silver in the winter. The carpet underfoot is a soft hunter green, while the walls are a pale wintery blue. There are various and sundry toys strewn everywhere, a shelf of picture books, a changing table, and a beautiful hand-carved mahogany crib with gauzy white lace curtains, above which danced a mobile of stars and snowflakes. The centerpiece of the room, however, is the portrait of Anna and Elsa’s parents, no longer covered with a black veil, hung above the crib, casting their proud, benevolent smiles on their grandson.

Their grandson who, at the moment, is wailing his little lungs out in Anna’s arms.

Elsa hurries over, a worried frown crossing her face. “Is he alright?” she asks.

“He’s got a fever, and he’s been fussy all morning,” frets Anna. She’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet next to the crib, gently rocking Kai back and forth. “Olaf’s gone out with Kristoff--if he were here, he could maybe stand next to me and cool Kai off. I’ve been making do with cool cloths, but it’s not helping much.”

“Oh, Anna, you should have called for me!” exclaims Elsa, forgoing her queenly demeanor and plopping down on the carpet next to her sister. “Give him here, maybe I can help.” She allows her hand to cool considerably--not enough that ice would form her skin, but enough to feel cold to someone else’s touch--and gently places it over Kai’s forehead.

“I didn’t really want to disturb your meeting,” Anna mumbles shyly.

Elsa rolls her eyes. “Please, I would have welcomed any disturbance. The councilmembers haggle like old fishwives.”

Anna giggles and leans her head against Elsa’s shoulders. “Boy, am I glad I don’t have to do any of that stuff,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I have no idea why Hans wanted a crown, it seems so troublesome--” She pauses, and her face falls. It has been some time since Hans’ expulsion from the kingdom, and Elsa has made very sure that King Leonhard of the Southern Isles meted out the appropriate punishment, but Anna, it seems, is still not over it. Her first love and her first heartbreak, all rolled into one man. The pain is old, but it lingers.

Wordlessly, Elsa tilts her own head so it leans against Anna’s. Her support is silent, but it is there, and Anna appreciates it all the same.

Their hair is a stark contrast; Anna’s dark reddish-blond curls, and Elsa’s platinum, nearly white hair. Elsa thinks that their hair is very telling of their differing personas. Anna is sweet and clumsy and cheerful, and is almost universally well-liked. Elsa, on the other hand, is so very, very regal, composed and reserved. She is certainly not as closed off as she was before, but she still finds it difficult to be friendly with others. She is polite, certainly, but not welcoming.

She thinks of her ice palace, up in the North Mountain, and realizes her heart is rather like that palace. A small handful of people have reached it--Anna, Olaf, and even Kristoff and Sven--but only after a long, treacherous hike through the snow.

How very strange, then, that the little boy in her arms managed to enter with nary but a small, sleepy whimper.

“Oh, Elsa, you’re wonderful!” Anna suddenly breathed. “He’s quieting down.”

Elsa glances down and sees that her cold touch has indeed had a soothing effect on Kai. The baby squirms a bit, then settles down to sleep. His lips are slightly pursed, as if something inside his mouth is bothering him; a little thread of drool escapes from his mouth and dribbles down his chin.

A sneaking suspicion enters Elsa’s mind. She remembers being very young, with scant control over her powers. Her parents must have had a hell of time keeping Elsa’s secret what with the violent snowstorms springing up every time she had a tantrum. But on the day in Elsa’s memory, she is quiet, annoyed with the crying coming from down the hall, but quiet.

In her memory, Elsa sees herself climbing out of bed and running to the nursery. She sees the alarm in her parents’ face as she jumps up and down, holding out her arms in silent indication that she wants to hold her baby sister. The king and queen exchange glances, but they relent and allow young Elsa to cradle the baby.

It is one of the few instances from back then where Elsa can remember actually controlling her abilities.

“Her mouth hurts,” Elsa remembers saying, simply, succinctly. Then, she raised a hand, fingers coated with ice, and gently probed baby Anna’s mouth open. Her sister latched onto the cold fingers being offered, and settled down to sleep.

“She’s teething,” the queen had whispered. “She’s teething, and Elsa figured it out.” _Elsa’s controlling her powers_ , was the unspoken thought.

It seemed, even back then, that the answer to controlling her magic was making itself known to her. Elsa had simply been too afraid to see.

“I know what’s wrong,” Elsa says softly. She allows a thin coat of ice to appear on her finger, and carefully slips it past Kai’s lips. “He’s teething.”

Anna’s eyes widen. “He--he is?”

“Yes. See?”

It’s not really a tooth, per se, but rather the beginnings of one. Still, it’s there. A lump of pale pink skin protruding from Kai’s lower gums, showing where the teeth will erupt. Elsa gently rubs her ice-covered finger over the inflamed area, soothing the baby’s pain. “I did this with you, before,” she says, quietly, so as not to wake the baby. “When we were younger. Mother and Father were at a loss. So I--” She paused, and chuckled. “--improvised,” she finished.

“Oh.” Anna’s eyes glimmer with the threat of unshed tears, but she holds back and smiles. “That was brilliant of you.”

Elsa smiles back.

They are so very different, her and her sister. But they have things they share. The freckles that are scattered across the bridges of their identical noses. Their father’s blue eyes. The fierce protectiveness and sense of caring for their family. Their love for each other, for their kingdom, and for the tiny baby boy cradled in Elsa’s arms.

In this, they are utterly the same.

When Kristoff comes home, it is to find his wife and sister-in-law fast asleep on the nursery floor, his son cradled in the queen’s arms. He smiles and closes the door, allowing them their rest. He informs the irate councilmembers that the queen is indisposed, and will see them tomorrow.

“She is with her sister,” he says, and the advisors let the matter drop.

Outside, it begins to snow.


End file.
